Religion

March 09, 2010

I stumbled upon a fascinating story from the Wall Street Journal about Jews in Jamaica, and how the government wants to attract tourist using the Jewish history angle.

"No matter that Jamaica has just one synagogue and no rabbi, or that
its Jewish community is down to around 200 people. It was once home to a
Jewish pirate named Moses, according to one account.

A global economic downturn and "ferocious" competition from Mexico,
says Jamaican tourism director John Lynch, mean that every traveler
counts these days. Jamaica's Jewish history, he concedes, has "been a
well-kept secret."

Read the full story here, and also make sure to watch the video embedded in the article. As it turns out, Jamaica was a destination for Jews fleeing the Inquisition, and at one point it had a thriving Jewish community, one of the largest in the Caribbean. The current Jewish population is only around 200, but the tourism bureau hopes the sand-floor synagogue, one of very few in the world, could be a tourist attraction.

While reading, I noticed that two different people in the article, including a Jamaican Jew and a Jewish pirate, both have the surname Henriques, which is of Portuguese origin. So I looked it up, and the full story of the Jewish pirate is completely fascinating: Moses Cohen Henriques, a Portuguese Jew, allegedly aided Dutch captain Piet Hein in one of the biggest heists in history, capturing Spanish ships in Cuba with silver and gold worth around US$1 billion in today's currency. It gets better! Then, Henriques headed to Brazil, where he established a pirate colony on an island off the coast. In 1754, when the Dutch took over Northern Brazil, he left Brazil to join pirate Henry Morgan in his adventures.

While I'm not sure how much luck Jamaica will have with this "attraction," it's certainly an interesting idea, one that could definitely be adopted in Recife, home to one of the oldest synagogues in the Americas and a former thriving community of Dutch Jews that later established the first Jewish community in New York. The temple is simple but beautiful, and there's also a small museum in the synagogue. But the city itself could do more to promote its former Jewish heritage as a cultural destination, and it could use Jamaica's experience as a model, since I think Pernambuco actually has an even larger and more complex Jewish history.

Supposedly, negotiations began back in December with the hopes that the two parties could come to a "friendly" solution, rather than a legal battle. Although the Church doesn't charge people to use the image of the statue, they do have "veto power" over its use, which they have apparently used before during Carnival and other events. According to one report, Columbia requested use of the footage to the Archdiocese and was denied, but used the footage anyway. In addition to financial compensation, the Church is demanding a public retraction from the movie studio.

I'm going to go ahead and call bullshit on this. The idea that an organism, be it a church or a government, having this type of control over the use of a public monument's image is absolutely ridiculous. The Christ statue, albeit religious in nature, is a symbol of Rio and internationally, a symbol of Brazil. It's incredible how such an archaic arrangement could still be in place, especially with such an important national treasure. Ironically, it reminds me of the latest New York Lotto print ads, which feature New York landmarks like the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building with big price tags on them:

Also, if the church doesn't charge for the use of the image, demanding payment for its "unauthorized" use is what exactly? That smells like a lawsuit. It seems to me that the Archdiocese is going to have to sue Columbia, because I'd imagine this kind of demand is not going to go over so well. If they don't reach an agreement by March, the Church says the will bring an "official" lawsuit.

Interestingly, on many of the articles, Brazilians expressed their anger with the Archdiocese and noted that they had loved seeing the Christ in the 2012 movie, since it was evidence of Brazil's rising importance and made them feel proud. There are so many disaster movies where American and European monuments are destroyed with glorious special effects, but never any with scenes from Brazil. This really made an impact on Brazilians - the simple recognition was an incredible stamp of approval and renewed source of national pride. It had an especially important effect because Brazil was included as a major part of civilization, another country on par with the US, Europe and India, rather than the stereotypical images of Amazonian "savages" or scantily clad beachgoers. It was an equalizing moment, even though it was a fictional image of destruction. If you really want to look into the symbolism for what the scenes meant for Brazilians, it could be seen as the end of a history of marginalization, the end of the perpetual "country of the future," a kind of rebirth for Brazil.

Given the Archdiocese's ridiculous demand and a likely lawsuit, this could potentially discourage other filmmakers to include the Christ statue in their movies, or even encourage them to exclude Brazil altogether, given that the statue is the best known image of Brazil to gringos. We'll see how it plays out, but it might get ugly.

July 17, 2009

I've given it a lot of thought, but I still can't put my finger on why Jews love Latin America so much. Out of all of my friends and the people I've met living in, traveling around, working with and studying the region, a significant percentage are Jewish.

This doesn't necessarily include Jews living in Latin America, since their ancestors chose the region for one reason or another, but based on necessity. It seems to me that some American and to a lesser extent British and European Jews have a particularly strong interest in Latin America, and are strongly drawn to it, more so than any other part of the world.

I've tried to examine why it is I was drawn to the region early on, and maybe other American Jews have had a similar experience. Growing up in a town with a very small Jewish population and a large Latino population, I was exposed to Latino culture on a much more frequent basis than Jewish culture (despite being put into Hebrew school), and the cool kids in school were the Dominicans. Instead of joining a Jewish youth group, I joined clubs at my high school. I hated going to temple; I would have rather been in ballet class.

It's not that I didn't not want to be Jewish, but I was more interested in culture than religion, and I found Latin culture a lot more attractive. This, I think, could be another key. Whereas a lot of Judaism focuses on the past and all of the trials and tribulations the Jews have been through, Latin culture seems to focus more on the present (despite an unhappy history, too). Jewish music is depressing; Latin music tends to be a lot more upbeat. Our most important holiday is a day of repentance that involves hours in temple listening to horrid horn-blowing, fasting, and sadness; in Latin countries, one the most important (religious) holidays is Christmas. We eat gefilte fish; they eat arroz con pollo. We have Purim for one night a year; they have Carnaval. Our "old countries" are in the frozen tundra where we were driven out by bloodthirsty men; their "old countries" have beaches and swaying palms (some do, anyway; and it's not that they don't have bloodthirsty men too, but it's easy to overlook that).

Are you a gringo Jew obsessed with Latin America? Do you have an explanation?

May 21, 2009

What does it say about the state of Brazilian Catholicism when more and more people in the world's largest Catholic country turn to Evangelicalism every day?

I asked myself this same question while living in Rio, where there is now an Evangelical church on nearly every block in the poorer parts of the city, and plentiful in the wealthier parts. On the commuter trains and in the streets, you'll find wandering preachers, and people handing out fliers for different churches, promising salvation (and requesting donations). Hordes of young people dressed in matching tee-shirts walk together from activities to the church on Sundays.

The Washington Post recently published a story about evangelical ministers working in the Rio favelas to try to cut down on violence, as well as a bit about the evangelical movement in Brazil. I'd read about this phenomenon a year ago, including a minister who runs a commune for new converts, something of a religious rehab for former convicts and narcos.

For the most part, I was skeptical. I'm suspicious of any and all fundamentalists, regardless of religion. I was wary of the rules of attire and lifestyle (long skirts and flat shoes for women; no drinking or partying). I understood the harsh critique of the sect in Linha de Passe. I was uncomfortable with the idea of the church taking money mostly from people with barely any (with the exception of famous evangelicos like Kaka). I was horrified to read about the arrest of the founders of the Renascer church. I was constantly harassed by those rove preachers, and it grated on my nerves.

But then, a month or so ago, there was a huge Evangelical event held near our house, and I witnessed it from the window. Dozens of buses parked for miles along the water (see below), and tens of thousands of people came.

There was loud singing, loud preaching, and many appeals for money. There were many songs about Jesus and many promises made.

But unlike other large, free events, like New Year's or beach concerts, there was peace. There was no alcohol or drugs. There was no screaming. There were no fights. There were no gunshots. There was no violence. The revelers came in in an orderly fashion in the afternoon, and by 9pm, the beach was completely empty.

I don't mean to imply that evangelicalism is the key to peace and order in Rio; the situation is too complex. But those evangelicos are certainly on to something.

May 13, 2009

When I initially planned my visit to ARI, Rio's only reform synagogue, I planned to find out what made Brazilian Jews different from American ones. I'm fascinated by how cultures influence one another and how they change each other. But to my surprise (and I'll admit, disappointment), I found that Brazilian Judaism is no different than American Judaism. We are pretty much exactly the same everywhere. But perhaps that's the beauty of it.

I had an inkling when I first walked in to the beautiful building. Like in the temple I used to attend in New York, there were signs for
no smoking and no cell phones, glass-encased Jewish crafts and
knickknacks for sale, and a large tzedaka box. I came across a memorial wall with names of deceased congregation members, whose names were identical to the kids in my Sunday School classes: Katz, Goldstein, Hirsch, Grossman, Rosenberg. My greatest delight was coming across my uncle's name, which I had never seen or heard duplicated even in the US. It's possible my uncle has long lost Brazilian relatives.

When I asked B, an active volunteer at the temple who agreed to answer my questions, she was very insistent that the Judaism they practiced there was the same passed down from their European parents and grandparents, and that Brazilian culture had little to no influence on the way things worked. Like American synagogues, their temple has youth groups, charities, does volunteer work, and offers activities for congregants. She acknowledged that though the "Latin" way of life differs from the Eastern European way of life, she pointed out that Carioca Jews include people of German, Italian, Russian, Spanish, North African, and Egyptian descent, who all come together to carry on their shared rituals.

But she did concede a few things. She told me she'd once tried a Jewish version of vatapa in Belem, when I asked if there were any Brazilian cultural influences in Jewish culture. She mentioned the culture of infidelity and the subsequent high number of divorces in the Rio Jewish community, which she implied could be a Brazilian influence. When I told her about the uber PC culture and separation of church and state law in the US, where Christmas creches can cause lawsuits and where it's safest to say "Happy Holidays" rather than "Merry Christmas," she looked surprised. In Brazil, she said, when someone tells her "Feliz Natal," she tells them the same and goes on with her day. With a tiny population in a sea of Catholics, they have learned to adapt.

Later, she went on to tell me about the struggles they faced, the same kind you'd hear in any American temple: raising funds to add to the building (her pet project is trying to build a mikvah), the tension with the Orthodox Jews (who have a habit of telling the reform Jews that they're not really Jews and would be better off Catholics), and the competition with other temples to attract congregants.

I left the temple feeling a little disappointed, since I was hoping to find some evidence of cultural melding (feel free to leave any examples you can think of in the comments, by the way). But I also was impressed by how the Jews of Rio have managed to maintain their religion and way of life just as it was in the "old country," just as we have in the US and the rest of the diaspora around the world.